Cycles of Time
by Leonaria Dragonbane
Summary: Logan gets mixed up in a mess, can he get out of it...Very AU and very Pre Movie. ROGAN eventually...you will just have to read.  This is off canon, so please be merciful. Reviews welcome.
1. Chapter 1

OK off on a different tangent for me…as usual, don't own them even though I love to play with them, so please pardon my humble attempts at trying to bring them more to life.

This will be another long – ongoing project, so for those who are enduring my other long and drawn out projects, updates will come as they can. Another dream induced idea – Gods Bless Morpheus.

This is TOTALLY AU, as far as I know these characters do not exist in Marvel universe, other than Logan and the rest of the Marvel crew. I am throwing canon to the wind (comic) anyway, and writing my own version of the past. Reviews are always welcome, but be aware this is completely OFF CANON, so flames about canon WILL be IGNORED.

Chapter 1

He reined the horse up in front of the Hawkins's place. Every light was on in the house, an unusual occurrence in the best of times. Charles didn't like to entertain, said it was costly. Melanie would be almost eighteen now, a spinster if Charles had anything to say about it. He doted on that girl, but Logan doubted he would ever let her marry.

He knocked on the door, Sassy, Charles's downstairs maid answered.

"Mr. Howlett, how good to see you. Mr Hawkins has guests for dinner. I will let him know you are here." Logan grinned at the girl. Hawkins had hired her straight off the boat, her cockney accent still strong, after all these years. He stood in the entry, his hat in his hand.

"Sassy, you didn't take Mr. Howlett's hat – or coat." Charles said as he walked out of the dining room. He was pale, and Logan could detect a hit of fear in his scent. His instincts – his difference – served him well, especially in business. Something was wrong.

"I wasn't planning on staying…just dropped by to see how you are doing old friend."

"Nonsense, this is a happy day. Sassy take his hat and coat, you will join us for dinner, James." Charles never used his first name, something was definitely wrong. Charles was glad to see him, and for someone who owed money, that wasn't a good thing. His return to Halifax wasn't about money, this time, but still Charles owed him a good sum.

"I certainly wouldn't say no to dinner. I am dressed for the road; I wouldn't want to put the ladies off." He smiled at the girl as she took his coat. He was wearing a simple brown suit, and Charles was lucky he wasn't dressed for the West. His gun and belt were in a saddle bag on his horse outside. He brushed off his lapels and straightened his jacket.

"Melanie will be pleased to see you." Charles put a welcoming hand on his shoulder, guiding him into the brightly lit dining room. Logan almost froze in the door, what was Abbott doing here, and sitting that close to Melanie. Logan smiled at the young girl sitting at the foot of the table. Charles had her playing hostess, something was definitely wrong, and that dress…it belonged on a streetwalker; he would definitely have to talk to Charles about this later.

"Logan, your home," she smiled and stood, all the men at the table stood in unison. There were only two other women there, neither of whom deserved the title. He would swear he had seen one of them slipping out of the room across the hall from his in the hotel last night.

"Just for a visit, Melbell. I still have business out west to deal with."

"You will stay for the wedding, of course." John Abbott said, as he placed a possessive hand on Melanie's arm.

"Wedding – Congratulations." Now he understood. How the HELL had Abbott gotten Melanie to agree to that. The look on her face was pure panic. Logan stepped close and kissed her gently on the cheek. He could smell tears on her, tears and pure fear. She didn't want this, something was wrong.

"When is the blessed event?" He asked as he took the chair Sassy held for him.

"In two weeks…the bans will be posted tomorrow."

"I can put my business off until then." Sassy placed a plate in front of him; at least he was in time for the main course. The men at the table talked quietly. Logan knew a few of them, and wondered where their wives were. This type of dinner should have wives and daughters, sitting congratulating the bride to be, not whores. He was getting angrier by the moment.

Dinner droned on, finally desert was served and the ladies left, Melanie plead exhaustion and went upstairs, Logan almost ripped Abbott's throat out when he stopped her and kissed her at the bottom of the stairs. He didn't care if they were engaged; you didn't kiss a woman like that, outside of the bedroom, especially if she doesn't want it. He was going to have to deal with Charles. He had known that girl for years; he didn't want to see her hurt.

He was waiting on Sassy to bring his hat and coat when Charles escorted Abbott and his flunkies to the door.

"Look forward to seeing you at the wedding, Howlett." Abbott said as he left. "But not before then. She's going to be my wife, it wouldn't be seemly."

"I have business with Charles, if I see Melanie; it will be in that context I assure you. Congratulations again, she's a fine girl." Abbott just laughed and walked down the steps.

"Logan – a word before you go." Charles was standing at the study door.

"Good, I have a few for you." Logan stormed into the room, Charles closing the door behind them. "WHAT THE HELL are you THINKING!?"

"I know. I don't want this. Mel doesn't want this. We have no choice."

"Charles, what the hell is going on?" Logan threw himself into a chair in front of Charles' desk. "Is it money…I can loan you what you need?"

"No, it's worse than that. You remember that lumber deal, last year – the one that went bad. Abbott bought the debt, and then sued me over it, sent his men in to cause trouble in the lumber camps; some people were hurt – killed. Abbott has dragged my name through the mud over the whole thing, Melanie's too. He put it out that she was seen in the camps – alone."

"Why is he doing this? I know Abbott is an ass, a criminal ass, but he usually keeps things clean, I have never heard of him dragging a lady through this."

"Melanie was at a dressmaker, last year. He was there with his latest whore, trying to buy her some respectability no doubt, he says Melanie snubbed them. Mel says she tried to be nice but the woman was rude and snooty and well – you know Mel."

"I still don't understand, this isn't like Abbott?"

"Mrs. Jenson was there…"

"Oh GOD – all of this because of that no good busybody who can't keep her nose out of anything." Logan almost had to laugh.

"She put it around that Mel wouldn't have Abbott if he were the last man on earth, the bad part is, it's exactly what Mel said. So he started courting her. She kept refusing left and right, but then he started attacking my business, putting me in debt to him, threatening to sue if I didn't pressure her. Then the ugly rumors started."

"The man is an idiot to do this for wounded vanity." Logan looked over at his friend. Charles was drawn, pale. There was still more to this.

"It got worse. Two of my horses were found, throats slashed in the stables. Meg, the upstairs maid was raped and killed on the streets – and Abbott hasn't been quiet about what he plans for Mel after they are married."

"Then WHY are you doing this?"

"Because NO ONE ELSE WILL HAVE HER! I've tried, no one wants to cross Abbott, and I even tried sending her to her uncle in India, Martha's brother. Abbott stopped her at the port, and DRAGGED her back here, through the streets. The police won't touch him, he has bought them off. I tried sneaking her down into the states, even with the war going on down there it would be safer than this. I don't care what he will do to me, but Mel…Logan you have to get her out of here, before the wedding."

"This is insane. I am NOT dragging Mel anywhere. I will deal with Abbott myself."

"Logan…you can't."

"Watch me."

"Logan, he was in an accident, last month, a pure accident. The police arrested me; put me on trial for his attempted murder. I was only released because I agreed to this whole farce. He has the house watched at all times; I don't know what to do."

"I do…I'll kill him. They can only hang me, and we both know how well that will work."

"Logan, you can't. You are – you will be hunted the rest of your life, however long that will be. NO, I won't let you commit murder. Just get my girl out of here. I don't care how you do it, just do it. Get her to her uncle; he will make sure she is safe."

"You are looking at this all wrong, Charles. The easy way to handle this is kill the man. The next easiest thing is to NOT have the wedding. It's Eighteen Sixty Three for God's sake – there are laws against forced marriages. All the girl has to do is say NO!"

"He will kill me if she does. He is going to kill me after anyway, but he keeps promising her he won't."

"How the HELL am I supposed to sneak her out of here. Charles you are so tied up in this you aren't thinking straight. I'll kill a couple of his men, get her to the port and on a boat to India, ok will that make you happy...and you still owe me three thousand dollars." He stood up in disgust. Charles was a pansy ass he knew that, but this was ridiculous.

"He's going to prostitute her…after the wedding. He already has men bidding on the wedding night."

"WHAT!" How the hell had this idiot let things get this far.

"The whole city knows. He's selling her virginity to the highest bidder." Charles was almost in tears.

"You are an IDIOT, Charles." Logan was furious. "AN IDIOT to let it get this far – YOU should have stopped this sooner - called the man out for God's sake, something."

"Logan I don't know what to do, Martha's grave is here, I can't leave her. I wanted Melanie married to a good man, who would care for her, not this…NEVER this." The man was a blubbering idiot.

"If it were just you, Charles, I'd walk out that door. Mel doesn't deserve this."

"I know – for her sake, Logan, help us."

"No…not for her sake. Abbott is an ass, I'd do it to help anyone who got on his bad side, but SHIT! YOU are a damned idiot; Mel is well rid of you. She's your daughter for crying out loud and you are letting this piece of shit treat her like this. It's your job – YOUR DUTY to protect her, you shit." Logan let loose his anger.

"She's just a child, Charles, a CHILD. Why the HELL did you let her dress like that tonight? Why did you let her go prancing around without an escort to the damned dressmaker? Why did you let a little slip of a girl with a BIG FUCKING MOUTH cause all this? It was Melbell's mouth that started this mess, I care for the girl, as a niece, but SHIT you have let her run free without discipline for too long." His voice was growing louder.

"NOW you want ME to get you the hell out of this mess. The easiest way would have been to FUCKING APOLOGIZE to the bastard, but no YOU had to let it get this crazy. Now I am going to have to KILL someone to take care of it – KILL someone. I am not your damned lackey, Charles. I don't like being put in a position where I HAVE to KILL someone." He was pounding on the desk in front of the older man.

"Then don't Logan." Said a soft voice from the door, Logan turned on Melanie in full rage.

"And YOU – when are you going to learn to keep your big mouth shut. YOU are a girl – a woman – and its time you learned your place. This is men's business, get your ass back upstairs, we will get you out of this mess…just don't ever ask me for anything again."

He could see the tears in her eyes, but she stood her ground, not backing down in the face of his anger.

"You don't have to do anything. I know this is my fault, believe me – I know. I will take the consequences, whatever they might be. I don't need your help, Logan. Go – leave – father will have the money to pay you what he owes you after the wedding."

"You really think Abbott will honor his word…?" Logan was dumbfounded.

"No, father will have money from my inheritance. I have written a will, my mother's dowry which my father can't touch, will go to him when I die."

"Die?"

"Yes, he may do what he plans to me, but I will have the final say. What he plans may very well kill me, and if not, I am resourceful and determined. He won't keep me alive for long if I choose to die."

She was just a kid; she shouldn't have to think about things like this, plan things like this. He remembered her sitting on his lap, as a child, a precocious child at that – always expressing her opinions to the adults around her.

"No. It ain't happenin'" He said softly.

"Logan you can't stop it. The bans will be read, the wedding will take place and I will go into this with my head up, even if I can't come out the other side that way. I am sorry my father disturbed your evening with this triviality. Please – I look forward to seeing you at the wedding, but do not come again."

"Like HELL!" He shouted at her.

"Logan – please. John is not a nice man; you will make things harder on us, if you come back. Give us this little bit of time to say goodbye."

"Like HELL!" He shouted again, stepping closer to the girl in the door. She still hadn't changed from the gown she wore at dinner, its obscene neckline showing far more of her young chest than any man should see. She was a child, playing dress up.

"Get back to your dolls, Melbell. Maybe when you are grown, you can think about marriage, but …"

"Logan I am eighteen, I don't even need my father's consent to marry…"

"You are still a child."

"Not legally."

"I am going to kill the bastard and that is the end of it." He said.

"NO! If anything happens to him, his men have been told to … have me." She blushed as she said it.

"Well from the sounds of things…that's happening either way – and if I kill him they will have to get through me."

"There is another solution."

"Not another one of your girly ideas…like insulting the biggest asshole in the city."

"I didn't insult him, I insulted his WHORE!" She shouted back at him.

"SAME DIFFERENCE!" He shouted back.

"YOU could marry me." She shouted.

"LIKE HELL!" He shouted back. The stricken look on her face shocked him. "What did you say?"

"You could marry me."

"No- NO – NO! I don't need a wife; I don't need an albatross around my neck."

"It could work Logan." Charles said, hope springing in his eyes. Damn they had planned this…must have planned to catch the first unassuming sap who walked in the door.

"It WON'T work. I'll get her out, get her to India, I can even promise that, but marriage is out of the question."

"Logan – he will go after her, even in India, and she will be without protection."

"She'll have a whole regiment of the God damned Queen's Army to protect her…probably get married off there anyway. Last I checked Billyboy was a Colonel or something.'"

"Then you get her there, to them, you find her a husband to protect her, because there won't be much here to come back to." Charles said. Logan glared at him. He was right about that, there wouldn't be much left, because when Logan got back he would gut the coward himself.

"Logan – thank you." She whispered. He glared at her. He'd take the child to India, get her to her uncle and then get on with his life.

"When are we doing this?"

"The sooner the better." Charles said.

"Now." Logan said, plans already formulating in his head.

"NOW?" she asked.

"Yea, now – "

"Do you have a ship – tickets – a way to set sail as soon as we get to the docks."

"Actually…yeah – at least the ship part."

"What?"

"I have a friend – a captain who is in port. If we get there before dawn he can take us as far as London, and I can get a ship there, to India, but he sails at dawn."

"Really."

"Really – I had drinks with him this afternoon."

"Logan, thank you." She threw her arms around his neck. He yanked them down and pushed her away. 

"Quit – I am doing this – well not for you." She just grinned at him and ran upstairs. The hope in her eyes startled him.

"Think about it, Logan. She'd make a good wife."

"Like hell, she'd make a willful brat of a wife that I would have to watch out for every second or she would destroy me like she has destroyed you. If it wasn't for Martha's memory, I wouldn't even take her to Bill."

"She's not a child, Logan."

"Yes – she is. She might be grown on the outside, but she is still a child, one I don't want to have to raise."

"She might surprise you."

"You both have maneuvered me into this, don't push. I will get the damned child to safety, and then I will come back and deal with Abbott myself, but after that…you are both on your own, and you STILL owe me money." He grabbed his hat and coat from Sassy. "Tell her to be ready in an hour. I will take care of the watchmen."

He walked out the front door, and climbed on his horse. He rode toward the hotel, and then doubled back, tied the horse in an alley and climbed a ladder to the roof of a nearby building. He could see two watchmen, obviously watching the house, one in front and one in back. There were five more, hidden in the shadows, and these were the ones he took out first, quietly. Seven men – she owed him for killing seven men tonight. He doubted she understood that kind of debt.

She was ready when he rode up; he pulled her and her bag up behind him on the horse. He glared at Charles in the door, and just said one word. "Seven"

Charles just nodded his head, and turned and closed the door. He turned the horse and rode for the docks. Her hands clutching his waist, as the horse tore through the streets. He just hoped to hell the tide hadn't turned. The KatieMarie was still in its slip as he rode up the docks. He dismounted and helped her down, and onto the gangplank.

"Logan, what's this? I thought you had business out west."

"I do but it will have to wait. Do you have berth for two?"

"I have one cabin…with a pretty thing like that, I am sure you won't mind sharing."

Logan growled at Daniel. He was a good captain, but a shit when it came to women. "She's not that type. Daughter of a business partner, he wants me to get her to her uncle. I agreed ta do it."

Daniel signaled one of the men to unsaddle the horse and bring up the bags. "What are you doing with the horse…I don't have room for stock, full hold this trip."

"Let it go, it's rented it will go back to the stable or not."

"Alright one cabin, and I will get you a hammock."

"That will be fine. Where are you heading after London."

"Barbados. Why?"

"Need passage to Bombay."

"Captain Miller does the Bombay run, out of London, I will introduce you when we are there."

"Thanks, Dan. I owe ya."

"No, passengers are good money."

"What do I owe ya, for passage?"

"Five hundred – for the two of you and that includes meals since you didn't bring your own stores."

"Fair." He counted out cash from his wallet. It was close. He would have enough when the got to London for lodging until the Bombay ship left, but he was going to have to pull from his London bank.

The cabin was a nice one, large enough to move around in, not much else, a bunk, hooks for a hammock a sea chest and a small table. It would do. Close quarters didn't bother him. Melanie seemed relieved instead of disdainful, like he expected.

"Thank you again, Logan." She said.

"Get some sleep; we aren't out of the city yet." He said. "I'll sleep when we are at sea."

"Logan, I am sorry about this."

"Quit. I don't want to hear any more, the less I hear from you, young lady the better." She turned and faced the bunk but he could still smell the salt of her tears.

"I will be on deck watching for problems, get some sleep." He walked out the door and closed it behind him.

Daniel was standing on the upper deck, and invited Logan to join him. He handed him a cigar and Logan lit it with a sigh of relief. This had been one hell of a night, and it wasn't over yet.

"Didn't want to say anything, but where'd ya get the blood on your clothes?"

"Don't ask."

"Not askin…you expectin trouble?"

"Maybe, I'll handle it if it comes. You and your men worry about getting us ta sea."

"Plannin' on it – just one question, why are you always runnin?"

"I don't know…not this time anyway, not MY problem I am runnin from."

"Women!"

"I wish…"

"That's a pretty little thing, to raise such a fuss over for nothing."

"Not nothin' knew her mother – good woman. Girl doesn't deserve the mess she landed in, so I am fishin her out."

"Girl – huh…looked like a woman ta me."

"GIRL! Got it."

"Right…it's a long trip – we'll see how you feel when we get to London." The captain chuckled.

The ship set sail with the dawn tide; Abbott's men hadn't caught on yet, or hadn't figured out which ship they were on. Logan stood watch all night, and then hung his hammock in the hold with the crew. Daniel was right about one thing, it would be a long trip.


	2. Chapter 2

OK off on a different tangent for me…as usual, don't own them even though I love to play with them, so please pardon my humble attempts at trying to bring them more to life.

This will be another long – ongoing project, so for those who are enduring my other long and drawn out projects, updates will come as they can. Another dream induced idea – Gods Bless Morpheus.

This is TOTALLY AU, as far as I know these characters do not exist in Marvel universe, other than Logan and the rest of the Marvel crew. I am throwing canon to the wind (comic) anyway, and writing my own version of the past. Reviews are always welcome, but be aware this is completely OFF CANON, so flames about canon WILL be IGNORED.

Chapter 2

Logan leaned against the balustrade, cigar smoke circling his head. He looked down at the girl next to him, her pale face and white lips testament to her lack of sea legs.

"Any better?"

"Yes – I don't feel like I am going to die." She tried to laugh.

"You should go back below – get some rest." He said softly. She gave him a wan half smile and turned to walk below. One of the sailors let out a crude whistle, and Logan glared at the man, who threw his hands up and looked away. Most of the crew were good natured, but things had been getting ugly since the sea sickness had given way, and she was spending more time on deck.

"You know, you are either going to have to make a claim – or fight the men." Daniel said as he walked up.

"She's just a kid."

"Logan, she's a woman, everyone on this ship sees it but you."

"Then you all need your eyes checked."

"Logan – you are going to have to accept that she isn't a child anymore."

"Like hell."

"Why are you doing this? I thought you were going west to your cabin, get some trapping in. Peace and quiet – you said." Daniel leaned on his arms next to Logan, both men looking out to sea.

"I was. I went to check on Charlie Hawkins and landed in this mess."

"Charlie Hawkins…that's the Hawkins girl?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"Bad mess, that."

"What do you know about it?"

"Mostly what I heard at the pub – the girl insulted Abbott and his whore, so Abbott went after the girl and her father, bad business. I had heard he had some claim over the girl – was taking bids for – well you know."

"Sounds about right, least what they told me. Any idea what she said that pissed him off so badly."

"Well, from what I heard, he took his whore to get some dresses made, your girl was there, the whore made some kind of comment about 'There's the Hawkins girl, if she has any claim to the name, since her mother didn't know who her father was.' – your girl there, she said 'I suppose you would understand that, I don't think any of your children know who their fathers are.' That made Abbott laugh, and he commented that a woman like that was worth the taming, and your girl said 'I wouldn't look at you, much less marry you, John Abbott, if you were the last breathing man on this God forsaken earth.' Well you can figure how Abbott took that. Challenging him is never a good idea.

"Damn – SHIT! That's what started this whole mess." Logan gripped the balustrade.

"Yep – wounded pride all the way around."

"Damn – and I got mixed up in it now – if it weren't for Martha – I would just drop the girl in London and be done."

"Martha? Her mother?"

"Yea…I met her when Mel was just a baby. I'd lost some land to Charlie in a poker game, and offered to loan him the money to start a lumber business. We went partner on it. Made good money, and Martha treated me like a brother – a part of the family. I have watched that girl grow up. I was shocked as hell to see her in long dresses. Anyway – for Martha's memory I'll do this. Charlie has burned his bridges with me…what fucking coward lets his child create this much havoc."

"That's a question I had about the whole mess. My daughter would have been apologizing, the same afternoon – after I tanned her hide."

"I'm goin' below, check on the girl…"

"Girl my eye…." He heard Daniel mutter as he walked to the bulkhead to below decks.

He knocked on the door to her cabin.

"Who is it?" She said, sharply.

"Logan."

"Come in." She said. He opened the door. She was standing at the small table built into the ship's bulkhead, her blouse open, a cool rag pressed to her chest.

"Still sick?" He said as he quickly closed the door. He didn't want any of the sailors to see her in this state of undress.

"Yes. I am sorry, again. I am not a very good sailor."

"Never said you had to be, Kid." He smiled as she shyly buttoned her blouse.

"I think I will lie down, the ship won't stop lurching." She moaned her face still pale.

She stretched out on the bunk and he fastened the keeper net. "Try ta get some sleep, Melbell."

"Logan, I am so sorry about all of this."

"It's done…it's in the past. We just have to go forward. Get some sleep." He pulled the door closed quietly behind him and went back out on deck. He leaned on the bulwark, looking out to sea, watching the blazing sun as it slipped beneath the waves.

"How's your girl?" Daniel asked.

"Not a sailor." He laughed.

"So she is your girl?" He just glared at the ship's master – and then nodded.

"She's my girl – GIRL!"

"As long as I can let the men know she's yours…we won't have any problems. Besides, we have good winds to our backs and should make Portsmouth in another week or so. I am taking a carriage run to London, with men and will escort you and the girl that far. I am meeting Miller, can set you up with passage to Bombay."

"That will be apriciated. I need to get to my bank in London before we deal with passage to Bombay, and see where her uncle's regiment is assigned."

"Are you going to take her to her uncle…or just take her?"

"I'm takin her to her uncle."

"Always did admire your honor, Logan." Daniel grinned at him in the fading dusk. "I ain't sure I'd have the willpower to resist a pretty – girl – like that."

"She's too good for a bastard like me."

"What…you are insane. Men like you are what are making this new world. Any woman would be lucky ta have ya – accident of birth or not."

"No – I don't need a wife. I have too many other complications in my life."

"Like what…you travel the world, makin business deals, you could buy ten of my ship without bleedin, you retire to that cabin of yours ta 'trap' as you say it, when ya get tired, when ya get tired of peace and quiet – I find ya on the dock, waitin ta get movin again. A woman might settle ya down."

"I don't need ta settle down…I'm only thirty-eight, I ain't ready for settlin' down. Settlin' down is for old men."

"Don't I know it…got me a wife and three kids…and I ain't settled yet." Daniel laughed. The two men relaxed and talked about the master's family until the last light was gone, and the stars sprinkled the sky. Logan finally went and gathered his hammock, and strung it in the hold, with the crew.

It was early morning when they reached Portsmouth. Melanie had finally gotten over the seasickness – and spent a part of every day on deck, under his watchful eye. The men stayed a respectful distance, more from Daniel's influence, than from any fear of Logan's wrath. The rest of the voyage had been uneventful.

He went below decks and made sure she had her bag packed. They were going to have to buy new clothes, neither one of them had packed much, and they needed to plan ahead, India would be hot, and the clothes they had were designed for the Canadian climate.

She gave him a small smile, and they headed up on deck, her bag and his saddle bags clutched in one hand. The sailors were kind as they helped Melanie down into the dingy; Daniel was already aboard, waiting on them to go ashore. The short trip in the small boat soon had Melanie green again. Logan schooled himself, not allowing any humor at her expense.

Melanie was so grateful to reach land; he allowed a small smile at her childish behavior. He still couldn't understand why Daniel couldn't see how much of a child she still was. They quickly left the docks and headed to the harbormaster's office. He wanted to send Charles a message that they had made it safely. He was surprised to find a message waiting for him.

"Came in by clipper, yesterday." The clerk at the office said.

It was from Sassy, by hand of the harbormaster.

**Mr. Howlett,**

**I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Mr. Hawkins was killed hours after you left. Mr. Abbott sent men to follow you, rumors say he went himself. He is only a matter of days behind you. Please keep Miss. Hawkins safe. There is nothing here for her to return to, the house was burned to the ground – and Abbott claimed all of Mr. Hawkins' property as settlement for the lawsuit. I am so sorry; please tell Miss Hawkins how sorry I am.**

**Sassy (by the hand of Harbormaster Frederick.)**

He looked at the paper in his hand. They were following, and he didn't have time – didn't even have time to get to London. He looked over at the girl sitting on a bench, waiting on him to take care of business. She was alone – her parents both dead, her only other relative an officer in the Army – in India of all place. He felt a weight settle around his neck. He had no choice; he was going to have to keep her safe. He was responsible for her now.

He walked over and sat down next to her. He tried to think of a way to break it easy, but he couldn't think of any, so he just handed her the letter.

He had to admit he was proud of her, she didn't create a scene, took it stoically. Just nodded, almost as if she expected it, and then handed him back the piece of paper.

"Now what?" She whispered.

"I have some time – let me think." He said softly.

"Logan – he's coming after me. He's not going to let me go."

"Yes he is – or he'll die."

"Logan, no more deaths – too many people have died already over this."

"I couldn't agree more. Just shut up and let me think." She leaned back on the wall of the harbormaster's office. Daniel stepped out, his berthing fees paid for the KatieMarie.

"You two ready to head to London. I need to get some business taken care of here, before I go, if you want to go ahead. I will meet you at the Two Lions."

"Actually – Dan – I need ta ask ya somethin" He stood up and stepped away from Melanie, gripping the master's arm. "Do you know a priest that won't ask a whole lot of questions?"

"Depends on the questions you don't want asked. What's going on?"

"Abbott's already on his way, Charles is dead, and all his property seized."

"Oh HELL! Does the girl know?"

"Yeah."

"So what do you need a priest for?" Logan just glared at him…"ohhhh!"

"It's just till I can get her to India, then I'll file an annulment."

"Sure…YOU are goin ta have a pretty thing like that – and NOT do anything. I've been whoring with ya."

"Mel ain't a whore – and I ain't gonna let this bastard turn her inta one."

"All I'm sayin – things that you plan temporary have a tendency to turn out permanent – and I know your way with women."

"Do you know a priest or not?"

"Yes, but Logan, to stop him from being able to sue for an annulment here, based on breach of promise, you are going to have to consummate it."

"FUCK!"

"Yep." He glared at Daniel.

"Just tell me where to find the priest and how much it will cost me for a fast wedding."

"Father Murphy – and knowing him – if you have time for an explanation, he won't charge – much."

"Where do I find this paragon?"

"St. Michaels."

"Thanks. I think." He turned and walked to where Melanie was still sitting and grabbed her arm.

"Let's go."

"Go – go where?"

"I think I have figured a way out of this – but we need to move."

"Logan, what is going on?" 

"We don't have time." He pulled her outside the harbormaster's office and hailed a carriage. "St. Michaels." He told the driver.

"Logan, what is going on?" She asked again, her voice becoming shrill, and her scent full of panic.

"I can only see two ways to solve this, I can kill Abbott, or we can get married. And you said no more killing."

"MARRIED! I thought you didn't want to be married."

"I don't."

"Then why…?"

"Because you are my responsibility – and I don't shirk responsibility."

"You would do that…marry me. Why?"

"I told you."

"Because you are responsible for me?"

"Yes. I am doing this…don't expect me to like it."

"Oh." Her face was stricken.

"Kid, it ain't my life goal to be saddled with a wife and a bunch of kids. I never planned on getting married. You are messing up my plans."

"Oh." Her face paled even more.

"Mel – it isn't you. If I – wanted – ta get – ya know – married, well it would be someone like you – a lady, from a good family. Just this ain't what I wanted –and well you are still a kid and shouldn't be stuck with a man like me."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothin – I just never planned on getting married. I don't know the first thing about being a husband – a father – and one usually leads to the other. My parents – well – weren't models by any means, and I don't want any kid of mine living like that."

"Logan, I am not a child."

"Darlin – you are to me."

"I am NOT a child. I am able to consent to this, without parental permission, I am not a child."

"Well you ain't a woman either, but unfortunately you are going to have to be."

"What – what do you mean?"

"This can't be in name only," he said as the cab pulled up in front of the church. "Abbott can fight it, if we don't consummate it."

"Consum…" Her face paled again.

"Can we worry about that later – we need to get married first." He held his hand out to her, to help her from the carriage.

"God help us." She whispered as she stepped down. He paid the driver and asked him to wait.

The good Father was in the rectory behind the church; his housekeeper let them in and guided them to the study.

"This is rather unusual." The red faced Father said.

"We just arrived, and would like to get married as quickly as possible."

"As possible, tell me – is this concerning a child? 

"No. It's a family matter."

"I am sorry, but you will have to wait for the bans."

"We can't wait. Miss Hawkins' father was murdered while we were on our way here; the men that killed him are after her. I don't have any legal right to protect her unless she is my wife."

"Well, there are a few other questions I need answered then – how old are you, young lady? 

"Eighteen – last February." She said.

"Do you have a legal guardian – after your father? 

"My mother's brother – but he is an officer in the British Army and stationed in India. Mr. Howlett was taking me to him when we got the news about my father."

"I see – no other living relatives you could look to?"

"No, Father."

"Well, this definitely falls under unusual circumstances. I happen to have a special license here, you will have to file it at the registrar's office in London – within ten days, or you will have to wait for the bans and another ceremony."

"We are heading straight to London."

"Good, then I suppose, with my housekeeper's assistance we can accomplish the deed."

"Thank you, Father."

He escorted them into the chapel of St. Michaels, the housekeeper following.

They stood quietly at the altar, as the Father droned the Church of England ceremony, Logan didn't pay a great deal of attention. He wanted this done, so that they could get on the road, London was one day away by coach, and he might be able to get them there quicker if he rented a horse and they rode but they would still have to stop for the night midway.

"Mr. Howlett…"

"What – oh, I do."

"Do you Melanie Marie Hawkins take James Logan Howlett to be your lawfully wedded husband …" he allowed his mind to drift again, not even hearing her quiet acceptance.

"Mr. Howlett…do you have a ring?"

"A what?"

"A ring." He looked down at her hand in his; of course they needed a ring. He reached into the fob pocket of his vest and pulled out his watch fob, there attached to the end was his mother's ring. It would have to do. He slipped it on her hand.

"With this ring I thee wed."

He let his mind drift again. Abbott's men wouldn't rest, and if Abbott himself was with them, Logan might be able to end this quickly. He needed to find out where and when they were arriving, and how much time they had.

"Mr. Howlett, you may kiss the bride."

"What, oh…" He dropped a distracted kiss on Melanie's forehead.

The Father and his housekeeper chuckled. They signed the license and he paid the Father for his time. He definitely needed to get to the bank; his cash reserve was getting low.

The cab was still waiting outside.

"Where can we catch the coach to London?" He asked the driver.

"At the Royal Arms, but the last coach left an hour ago - you will have to wait till mornin' govn'er."

"Where can I rent a horse?"

"Stables down on Market Street, but I wouldn't recommend tryin ta ride ta London, been Highwaymen between, the coach has guards ta protect it."

"Then I guess to the Royal Arms, we can get a room for the night and catch the coach in the morning." He handed Melanie up into the cab, and climbed in after her. She was pale, kept twisting her gloved hands in her lap.

"What is it, Mel?" He asked as he folded the license and slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"I…know you didn't want to do this – I don't want you to be angry with me."

"I am not angry – just have things on my mind."

"Like what?"

"Like things you don't need to worry about." He snapped

"Logan, it's my life in danger – I think I have some right to know what is going on."

"Mel – you are right. We need to get to London, file this license. That will take care of any issues with the legalities. We need to find out when and where Abbott and his men are arriving so we know how much time we have. I need to get to the bank in London – pull some more cash for the reserves. We need to make arrangements for passage to India…" She interrupted him.

"Why do we still need to go to India?"

"Your uncle is still your guardian, technically we have to obtain his blessing and permission – and there is the matter of your mother's dowry which is tied up in your grandfather's estate."

"How did you know about that?"

"Mel, your father and I were partners – business partners. I knew most of his financial business, including the mess with the dowry. That money will be yours – I won't touch it, but you need some security for yourself. Abbott took everything he could of your father's but he can't touch this, so you at least have something."

"But what about you?"

"Mel – I can take care of you, ok – and will, but I want YOU to have something of your own, so you don't HAVE to depend on me. Use it for pin money I don't care – but it should be yours."

"Oh – and you were thinking about all of this during the ceremony."

"Yes. I don't hold with all that religion crap."

"LOGAN!"

"What – I ain't gotten much out of God except heartache and pain, I doubt I will ever see his face, so why should I bother?"

She just bowed her head. "I suppose."

"Mel – we need to eat something – we will get dinner at the inn and then to bed." She blushed furiously.

"The deed has to be done."

She just nodded, looking at her hands in her lap. He knew she was nervous, all girls were. He put his hand over hers.

"It will be alright, I promise." He said softly.

She just nodded. The cab stopped and he climbed out and handed her down. He paid the cabbie and thanked him for his advice.

The proprietress of the inn just smiled when he asked for a room, and grinned even larger when he signed the register 'Mr. and Mrs. Howlett.'

"Newlyweds then – congratulations – would you like dinner in your room?"

"If you don't mind – thank you." He said, picking up Mel's bag and his saddle bags. They only had a few more days, until he could take care of getting them outfitted for India. The woman guided them up the stairs at the back of the common room and to a room on the back of the inn.

"It's away from the common rooms – more privacy." She smiled at Mel's blushing face.

"Thank you." He said as she pulled the door closed behind her. There was a bed against one wall, a table with a washbasin and pitcher of water, a chamber pot next to the bed and a table and two chairs. He set their bags down on the bed, and leaned his head against the poster.

"Mel – are you alright?"

"Yes, Logan – I'm hungry, but dinner should be up soon." She said softly.

"I can set things up – to look like we've – you know. We don't have to do this." She was so young, still so much a child.

"Logan, whatever you think is best, but I don't want Abbott – if he could prove – "

"You are right."

"I am sorry, Logan. I know you don't want to do this." That was the problem. He did. The trip from Halifax had brought a few things to his attention, including the very womanly curves her young body had developed. He had to keep telling himself she was a child, because the moment he let himself see her as anything else – that part of him, the part that kept him alive, kept his senses sharp, kept his mind alert to danger – that part of him would see her as a conquest, something to be claimed.

He pounded his head softly against the poster. She was his – his wife – to do with as he pleased – and God help them both – that part of him could want some rather debauched things. He was going to have to maintain strict control tonight, to keep from hurting her.

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts, and a maid brought in two bowls of stew and set them on the table. He slipped a coin into her hand, and told her not to come back for the bowls; he would set them outside the door.

"Mel, I am going to go downstairs and see about the coach, you eat – I will be right back." He closed the door behind him and started down the stairs when he heard a familiar voice. Abbott. DAMN!

He turned and went back to the room.

"Mel – you can eat later" He started unbuttoning his shirt as he threw the bolt on the door.

"What is it?"

"Abbott." Her eyes widened in panic.

"What do we do?"

"What we need to do."

"WHAT!?"

"Mel – if he finds us, after the fact and with the license already signed he can't do anything, legally except sue for breach of promise, and I'd be glad to pay the bastard to get rid of him." He tossed his jacket and shirt across one of the chairs, and sat on the edge of the bed and began unfastening his shoes.

"Logan…you want him to find us – like that?"

"Darlin' – whether he finds us in bed, or with the blood on the sheets, it has to be done, get undressed."

"Blood?"

"Darlin' hasn't anyone told you ANYTHING?" Her fingers were trembling at the buttons of her blouse.

"No." SHIT! He didn't have time to explain – hell he didn't even have time to try to make it nice for her. He dropped his shoes next to the bed and walked to her. He quickly brushed her hands away, unbuttoning her blouse and unfastening her skirt. The ties on her corset were tangled so he turned her back to him – and making sure she couldn't see, slipped a single claw from his hand and sliced the back lacings. The claw was completely out of sight when he turned her around, in nothing but her chemise and drawers.

"They got ta come off, darlin." He said. She blushed as she untied the lacing at the top of her chemise. He grabbed her face with his hands and kissed her, hard – demanding. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. The sound of footsteps drawing closer spurred him on – that and the sight of her exposed breasts – he had know if he ever allowed this his body would demand hers.

He untied the lacings of her drawers and slipped them down her legs, she tried to cover herself with her hands but he gently brushed them away, sliding his body between her legs.

"Darlin' I'm sorry." He whispered as he reached down and unfastened his trousers. He could smell her fear, hear the footsteps getting closer, smell Abbott and at least two others, and his body was already straining to be inside her. He kissed her, and pushed hard and quick, breaching her maidenhead as he swallowed her scream of pain.

"It's done – at least for legalities." He said, his body screaming to complete the act. His voice was harsh, and the salt of her tears did nothing to ease his burning need. He lay there, allowing her body to adjust as long as he could before his own need took over. His own tears joined hers, as her whimpers of pain told him just how much this was hurting her. Finally and fortuitously he reached his climax, just as a loud pounding came at the door.

"HOWLETT!" Abbott shouted. He grunted as he pulled out, and fastened his pants. He wiped her tears from her face gently.

"I'll make it up to you." He said, softly, and then "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ABBOTT!" He shouted.

"You have my fiancé in there."

"No, I have my wife in here." He said as he opened the door. He knew exactly what Abbott was seeing, Logan with no shirt, half fastened pants, Mel disheveled on the bed, covering herself with a bloodstained coverlet. Logan had made sure the stain was quite visible. The license was safely put away, but he doubted he would need it.

"You want to take this outside." Logan said, as he leaned against the man trying to force his way into the room.

"I will kill you for this – you bastard." Abbott said. "She's mine."

"Prove it, because I can." Abbott glared at him, "And – guess what – you are my witness that the marriage was consummated. Shit for that, huh."

"You had better not ever show your face in Halifax again – Howlett, or I'll kill you and your little whore there."

Logan doubled up his fist and plowed it right into the slimy weasel's face, knocking him back into the two men behind him.

"That's my WIFE. Got it." 

"Wife – whore – same thing." Abbott sneered as he shook himself off.

"Sorry you made the trip for nothing. I wish you fair winds back to Halifax." He stood there, fists clenched ready for an attack. Abbott wiped his jaw with his hands, and glared.

"We'll be seein' you…don't think for a minute you won't pay for this. You are just damned lucky you are in England – or I'd kill you where you stand."

Logan just laughed. Abbott and his men backed down the hallway. "I don't care what country I am in – you won't kill me. And Mel's mine – MINE!" He shouted as the men turned and stormed away.

So much for sleep – he'd sleep on the coach. He wasn't going to let them catch him unaware tonight.

He looked back into the room at his bride. She was just going to have to wait. She was his – he had accepted that, she would have to, too. He closed the door, and threw the bolt again, before grabbing a bowl of stew and sitting at the table to eat.

"Logan?"

"Come eat, Mel." He couldn't look at her – guilt wracked him.

"I'm not hungry."

"Mel – you haven't eaten since breakfast – and that was on the ship, get your ass over here and eat." She blanched at his tone. "I ain't goin ta bite, and I ain't goin ta hurt you – ever again! I will make this up to you, I swear, now eat something."

She pulled her under things together and dug in her bag for a dressing robe. She finally came to the table and took the other bowl and started picking at the cooling stew in it.

"It won't always be like that – I promise. I wish I had had more time; it wouldn't have been like that at all. Blame Abbott and his men – I will make it up to you." She just nodded. "You get some sleep after you are finished eating. I am going to stay up – wait for trouble."

"Do you think they will be back?" Her voice trembled.

"I don't know. Abbott's not stupid, and he doesn't want to face English justice where he can't buy it - I THINK he won't be stupid enough to try anything, but I am not going to trust that – or him." She nodded.

"What about…" She blushed.

"I told you – I will make it up to you, but I can't right now – right now I have to think about keeping us alive – making love to a woman is distracting at best – and I don't need to be distracted right now. Get some sleep – I will sleep on the coach." He could still smell fresh blood.

She pushed the bowl back on the table; half finished, and went back to the bed. She pulled a nightgown from the bag and poured some water into the basin. He watched as she stiffly removed her under things, blushing as she did so. He could see the dried blood and fluids on her legs, as she kept her back to him – but the fresh smell of blood was still bothering him. He stood and walked over to her.

"Mel – let me see."

"NO!" She blushed as she covered herself with the gown.

"Mel – I need to know – how badly I hurt you." He said it gently, his hands on hers.

She blushed as she lowered the gown, and his body responded to the site of her, he groaned. She was still bleeding a bit, he hoped it would quit soon. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"I am sorry." He whispered.

A tear slid from her eye and down her cheek, catching against the knuckle of his hand, and he pulled her roughly against his chest. "Let it go, Darlin' let it go." He held her as she sobbed. She had been through hell today, and it was all his fault. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, and sat down, with her across his lap. He just held her and rocked. He didn't know how long she cried, but the tears and sobs finally subsided to sleepy hiccups. He helped her to stand and slip the gown over her head. He went to the stand and picked up the cloth she had been using and rinsed it before going back to the bed and gently cleaning away the stains from earlier.

He slipped her gown down, covering her naked body, and then tucked her gently into bed. He started to stand when she grabbed his hand.

"Don't go – you are all I have left." She whispered, sleepily.

"I'm not goin anywhere. You need ta get some sleep. We head to London tomorrow, and then on to India."

"Do we have to take a ship?"

"Yes."

"Oh God – I am going to be sick the whole way."

"Now where is your sense of adventure – you did fine after the first couple days, and this is a longer voyage. You will be able to enjoy more. We will make stops along the way, see different countries. It'll be an adventure." He grinned at her.

"God I hate adventure." She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her head. He laughed.

"You are goin ta have ta get over that, Darlin' I live for adventure – sometimes the only thing keepin me goin is not knowin what's over the next hill. The past is dead – we have only the present and the future."

She peeked out of the blankets. "You are crazy."

"Go to sleep – I'll keep watch tonight. Tomorrow – your education in wifely matters begins." He grinned at her as she moaned and turned her back to him. God help him, the weight around his neck seemed to tighten, cutting off his breath for a second. A wife – responsibility – the things he had avoided for thirty-eight years. He blew out the candle on the table, plunging the room into darkness. He planned on watching all night – no one would get to her – not while he was alive, and to his knowledge and experience – he wasn't going to be easy to kill.


	3. Chapter 3

OK off on a different tangent for me…as usual, don't own them even though I love to play with them, so please pardon my humble attempts at trying to bring them more to life.

This will be another long – ongoing project, so for those who are enduring my other long and drawn out projects, updates will come as they can. Another dream induced idea – Gods Bless Morpheus.

This is TOTALLY AU, as far as I know these characters do not exist in Marvel universe, other than Logan and the rest of the Marvel crew. I am throwing canon to the wind (comic) anyway, and writing my own version of the past. Reviews are always welcome, but be aware this is completely OFF CANON, so flames about canon WILL be IGNORED.

**A/N **

**PyroWhore - **I thank you.

**CaptMacKinsey** - The Jane Eyre wasn't intentional - and as for Logan being like Mr. Rochester...I always imagined him that way - at least when he lived through the whole Victorian Era - however it wasn't intentional, I didn't even notice until you mentioned it. Of course now that you have I can see it.

Chapter 3

The night was uneventful and the next morning he woke Mel, and after she dressed, they went and paid for the coach. He dozed most of the way, while she stared out the window. Neither one had said much. The coach made good time, with no stops and they arrived in London before nightfall. From the coach to another cab, this time to the Two Lions.

"Mel, I will have to go to the bank tomorrow. I will also go by the Army office and see if I can find out where your uncle's regiment is stationed."

"Do we have to go, couldn't we just write him a letter."

"I want to get out of England – I don't trust Abbott and we will be safer if we are on the move, at least for now." She just nodded.

"We need to get some rest; I didn't sleep much on the coach." He grinned.

"Dinner might be nice." She said. He laughed and they went down to the common room. The Two Lions catered to merchants and ship's masters, so both the clientele and service were not as crude as some inns. The food was better, if pricier than more common inns. They ate in silence, as Logan scanned the room. His instincts were telling him they were safe, but he was second guessing even himself. He had to keep her safe.

Maybe she was right; maybe traveling wasn't a good idea. Maybe they should look into settling down. No, settling down was for old men – and he wasn't an old man yet. He'd never been to India, had heard a great deal of good things about the land and the people, it would be fun – she would see.

They went back to the room, and she shyly prepared for bed. He moaned, he had promised himself he wasn't going to touch her again, not until she was healed – and he had time to do it right. He waited until she was dressed in her nightgown before unbuttoning his shirt and taking his place at the basin to clean up.

"Mel, go to sleep." He said softly.

"Logan?"

"Just get some sleep." He unpacked his razor and mirror from his saddle bags. He hadn't shaved in days, and it showed. He needed to straighten up his chops – he wanted to look presentable at the bank tomorrow. He needed to sit down and try to estimate how much money they were going to need – they needed clothes, toiletries, passage money and money to live on while looking for her uncle. He had about a hundred pounds on him, enough for lodging while in London but he would need more than that for the trip they were taking.

He wiped the soap off his face, his chops clean and neatly trimmed. His hair was in its usual style, the two upswept peaks impossible to tame. He glanced over to the bed; she was curled on the far side, away from him – facing the wall. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or not. He grimaced at the thought of sleeping in these pants – again – but decided, for decencies sake, one more night wouldn't kill him. Tomorrow they would buy new clothes, both of them.

He pulled back the blankets on his side of the bed and slipped under. She scooted further away from him, and he almost climbed back out of bed to sleep on the floor or in a chair, but he was just too damned tired. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the luxury of sleep.

His mind was groggy – he felt something warm and very female under his arm, and felt a small smile creep across his face. He inhaled the scent of the woman in bed with him and the smile widened. She was his, he'd already claimed her. That was good – he could feel himself straining against his trousers. He shook his head, waking fully – and realization hit him. Her bare skin was under his hand. He was stroking his fingers along her belly. He froze. She was still asleep – and he tried to pull away without waking her.

"Logan?"

SHIT!

"Go back to sleep, Mel – go back to sleep." He quickly turned and faced the other direction, and kicked himself for being a letch and whoremonger. She rolled against him, one arm draping over his waist. This girl was going to be the death of him.

He lay there as she drifted back to sleep – her body pressed against his, and if she didn't stop wiggling and squirming like that he wasn't going to be accountable for his actions. He wanted nothing more than to roll over and wake her up properly – but she would hate him for it. She pressed her face against the middle of his back, mumbling in her sleep, her lips brushing against a spot right between his shoulder blades. He grabbed the blankets and pulled them back. He had to get out of this bed.

"Logan," she mumbled against his back "where are you going?"

He sat up and looked at her sleep hazed face. He leaned down, to kiss her forehead but that other part of him had other ideas. He captured her mouth, groaning as she responded to his kiss. He stretched out next to her, never breaking the kiss. Hell – he was going to regret this in the morning – but he would wait for morning for regrets. He could feel that dark part of him, screaming to possess her, but he wasn't going to give in. She was his wife, and deserved respect and decency – and caring.

He traced her cheek with one hand, as he lifted his lips from hers.

"Logan?" She whispered, fully awake – a trace of fear in her passion filled eyes – just a trace.

"I told ya I'd make it up to ya." He whispered – as he leaned down to kiss her again. He could smell her body responding to him, it almost pushed him over that edge, but he forced that black bastard down, he wasn't going to hurt her again.

He quickly removed her nightgown, her protests ignored. He brushed away her hands as they tried to cover her naked body from his eyes. He smelled the tears before the fell, and was there to kiss them away.

"I won't hurt you – ever again." He whispered. She just turned her face away, fear rising in her scent. He just grinned – he wasn't inexperienced with women by any means, and knew it was going to take all that experience to convince her. He traced her cheekbone with his lips, down her ear, then the column of her throat. One hand traced her naked waist, stroking the tender flesh, her giggle was a surprise.

'That tickles?" He asked against her collarbone, his lips trailing to her shoulder.

"Yes." He could still hear her tears in her voice.

"I'll remember that." He whispered.

"DON'T YOU DARE!" She turned to face him – indignation that he had discovered her secret across her face.

"Why does that bother you?" He asked as he stroked that tender spot again. She couldn't help the small giggle that escaped her lips, and he kissed her.

"It gives you and advantage." She said when she could speak again.

"Really…" He took her hand and put it against his own stomach; he felt her tentative strokes as he leaned down and kissed her again. Her body's instincts were starting to take over and he felt her palm flatten against him, and then her fingers found that spot – and he laughed against her lips.

"I'd say we are even – now." He said.

"Why would you do that? Show me your weak spot."

"Darlin' laughter isn't a weakness, and a good tickle fight can be downright fun." He grinned as he stroked his hands down her thigh. He had distracted her enough that he was able to caress her without her resistance.

"Really?" He was surprised by a sudden look of mischief in her eyes, and then she tickled him again – and wouldn't let up. He rolled over and pulled her on top of him.

"You learn quick." He said through the laughter.

"I never said I was stupid, Logan."

"No – just a girl." He said back.

"OHHH!!!!" She tickled him again. Her laughter joined his, and he kissed her – the moment was something he never wanted to end – and then she moved, and he moaned.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, Darlin'" He took her hand and placed it on the bulge in his pants. "It didn't hurt."

She tried to pull her hand away as if burned, but he held it against him – until her curiosity overcame her fear and she started tracing it through his pants. He moaned at her inexperienced touches, and every part of him wanted to roll her over and bury himself inside her. He finally had to cover her hand with his again.

"What?"

"Darlin' do you have any idea what that is doin' ta me?" He asked his voice harsh with need.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" She asked, trying to pull her hand away, he groaned.

"No, Mel – you are definitely NOT hurting me." He tried to grin. "It feels TOO good."

"Too good?"

"Let me show you." He watched the fear creep back into her eyes.

He rolled her over, onto her back, and slipped his body between her legs. He just kissed her, until her body started to relax under him. Taking this slow was going to kill him. He kept having to force the darkness in him to the back of his mind, whatever he was – whatever he had, it was like another person sometimes, it took over in the blackest moments and he would never allow it to touch Mel – she would never know what kind of animal – what kind of monster he could be.

He could feel and smell her body's response to his touch – her small whimpers weren't of pain this time, he slipped away from her body, and hid his grin at her moan of protest.

"I need ta get rid of these, Darlin'" he said as he slipped his pants off and onto the floor. He reclaimed his place, and took one of her hands, slipping it between them to explore him without any barrier between their flesh. He moaned as her small fingers slipped around him. He wasn't going to be able to hold back much longer, her touch was driving him insane.

He allowed himself exploration of his own, and found her body ready and wiling, he gently claimed her mouth and took her hand with his, pulling it away as he claimed his rightful place. She moaned – but he didn't think in pain, he still forced himself to be still, to allow her body to adjust – to sniff the air for fresh blood. All he could smell was their combined need, and that was all he needed to spur him on.

After they lay, breathing heavy – his head resting on her shoulder.

"God, Darlin' tell me I didn't hurt you." He whispered, still throbbing inside her.

"No – Logan – I don't know what that was – but it wasn't pain." He laughed. She had screamed his name – over and over. He rolled to his side, moaning as their bodies parted.

"That's how it should have been."

"Mmmm…" She curled against his shoulder, and he wrapped one arm around her. He felt her body relax, and was surprised by a light snore. He followed her into Morpheus's arms.

Sunlight streamed into the room, waking him. Her body was warm against his side. He looked down at her mahogany hair, tangled from his fingers and from sleep. He couldn't stop smiling. She was his girl – his wife – and suddenly he realized this was exactly what he had been looking for.

"Wake up, Mel. We have shopping to do." He said. She mumbled and burrowed deeper against his shoulder.

"I need ta get to the bank this morning." She lifted her head, and looked at him, her sleep filled eyes showing her confusion.

"Can't we sleep a little longer?" She moaned.

"NO! Today is an adventure." He stroked her cheek and kissed her. He could feel her body responding and seriously considered staying in bed a while longer, but the sounds of people moving around in the inn made him realize they weren't alone. "Get up lazybones." He said, patting her naked backside. He felt the heat rise in her face against his chest as she tried to hide her embarrassment at her undress.

He climbed out of bed and grabbed his saddle bags. He had one pair of pants that he had been saving for today, a clean shirt and his vest and jacket finished his preparations. He ran his fingers through his hair to try to tidy it, and looked over at her. She had slipped on her under things and was struggling with her corset.

"Leave off today, Mel. The damned thing is a nuisance." He said. She glared at him, and continued lacing it.

"A lady doesn't go out in public un-corseted." She said back, fire in her eyes. He picked her up and spun her around.

"Fine, then let me help you." He said as he set her back on her feet.

"What's gotten into you?" She asked.

"I don't know – I made love to my wife last night." He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. She blushed, but allowed him to help her get dressed.

London was a bustle, the Old Lady was crowded, but his accounts were in order so the withdrawal took little time. He slipped the notes into his wallet and into his jacket pocket. He had probably pulled more than they were going to need, but – he planned on spoiling her a bit.

He asked the teller if he knew a good respectable dressmaker, and with a reference in hand they went looking for her some new clothes. He stopped in at his haberdasher to order a few more suits and shirts. He explained in both establishments that they would be leaving for India and to plan their wardrobes accordingly.

He dragged her all over London, buying trunks – things they would need for the voyage. She seemed to be enjoying herself. They stopped for luncheon in a small restaurant and then went to the Army office. Her uncle was assigned to the 19th Foot, and were currently was stationed in the state of Punjab. That would mean a long road trip once they reached Bombay.

"First a ship, now a long road trip…can't we just rent a nice house and stay here…send him a letter?"

"Darlin' you are goin ta learn, I don't settle well. It's an adventure."

"Whatever you say, Logan." She sighed. They spent the rest of the day getting making purchases and ordering what they would need for the trip. Logan groaned at the cost, but paid without complaint. They returned to the inn late that evening and ate dinner in the common room again. Daniel and his men arrived and joined them.

"How's married life?" He asked after Logan sent Mel up to the room.

"Good – better than I expected to be honest. The girl doesn't have an adventurous bone in her body, but we will fix that." He grinned.

"Still a girl – huh." The ship's master grinned.

"No – MY girl." Logan grinned back.

"Good. I heard Abbott was in England."

"I dealt with him. We aren't stickin' around to see if it worked. Headin' ta India to find her uncle still."

"I will be meeting Miller here tomorrow night. I can introduce you. He's a good man – good crew. They will get you there safe."

"I appreciate it, Dan." They finished their beers and Logan went up to bed. Some of their purchases had been delivered already and the room was crowded. Mel was curled up in bed, covered in her nightgown again.

"Darlin' that thing is about as big a nuisance as the corset." He said as he stripped to his trousers.

"Why?"

"I'll just take it off." He grinned over at her. She blushed.

"Logan – are you…are we going to do – that – every night."

"Don't see why not." She blushed again. He laughed. "Darlin' you are my wife, a man expects to make love to his wife on a regular basis."

"Is that what they mean by wifely duty?"

"Yes, Darlin' that's the main duty."

"Well it's not so bad." He burst out laughing.

"We'll see about 'not so bad' when you are screaming my name again." He didn't think her face could get any redder – and then he took off his pants.

"Darlin' you are goin ta have ta get past this shyness. I don't like ta sleep in my clothes."

He pulled her against his side, the cotton nightgown harsh against his skin. "You have two choices, Darlin'. I can rip this thing to shreds or you can take it off. I prefer the feel of your skin to this harsh fabric." He whispered against her hair.

She blushed, but sat up and pulled the gown over her head, throwing it on the floor next to the bed.

"That's better." He said as he kissed her. He reached over and snuffed the candle with his fingers.

It took them two weeks to get everything ready for the trip, and then hire a carriage to take them back to Portsmouth. They boarded the JeannieDawn, and set sail. This time they shared a cabin, and he held her through her getting her sea legs. The JeannieDawn was a passenger ship first, and they had the company of several Army wives and families heading to join up with their husbands in India. Melanie recovered quickly, and before long was a good sailor. Storms caused her to become ill, but that was about it.

They marveled together as they watched the shores of Africa slip by, and he held her as they made the treacherous turn around the Horn. Whenever they made port, he took her ashore and they explored as much as they could before they had to return to ship.

They had been at sea about two months, when she started getting sick again. The seas were calm, but she complained about the motion of the ship. He let her sleep, as much as she could and she seemed to get better later in the day. They were about two weeks out of Bombay when one of the wives congratulated him, and he understood.

"Mel – are you alright?" He asked at dinner. She seemed fine, but he knew she didn't understand why she was ill.

"I'm fine. I don't know what it is. I am as hungry as a horse in the evenings and can't hold down anything at all in the mornings." She glared at him as he grinned. He couldn't help it.

"Darlin' I think I can say with certainty that this isn't sea sickness." She looked at him in confusion.

"But – I have never been sick like this before."

"You have never been with child before either." He waited for his statement to sink in.

"With – a baby – I'm carrying a child. How did that happen?" He spit his wine back into his glass, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Darlin' that's the normal result of what we have been doin' – in bed."

"Oh…OH!" She blushed furiously.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you where babies come from?"

"No." He rolled his eyes. Charles was lucky Abbott had killed him – Logan wouldn't have been quite as nice.

"Darlin' we can talk about this later. It's not exactly polite dinner conversation." He smiled at her.

"A baby!" She whispered.

One of the women traveling with them was a midwife and after Mel went back to their cabin he asked her to stop by their cabin and make sure everything was alright. He went out on deck, a cigar in hand. SHIT! A baby – maybe Mel had been right, maybe they should have rented a house in London – sent Billyboy a letter. Naaa – she would be fine. They would be fine. Women had babies all the time all over the world. It wouldn't make any difference if they were in London – or Punjab the baby would come when it was ready.

The midwife said Melanie was healthy and everything seemed normal, so he stopped worrying. They had time for adventure, before they had to stop for a baby. He grinned as he climbed in bed.

"Logan, I really just want to go to sleep tonight." She said, almost timidly.

"Sure, Darlin' – come here." He settled her against his shoulder.

"Mrs. Anderson explained a whole lot – I didn't realize how little I knew about married life – about being a wife and a mother. I will try to do better, Logan."

"Darlin' you are just fine. I know I said I didn't want to do this – that I only did it because I felt responsible. That ain't true – least not anymore. I can't think of anything I want more than you as my wife, carrying my child. You are my girl – don't ever forget it." He whispered against her hair, kissing the peak of mahogany at the top of her forehead. She snuggled deeper against his side, her fingers twirling the hair on his chest.

"I love you, Logan." She whispered. He felt his heart lurch to his throat. He never expected to hear those words – not from her. Comfortable – yes, care for – yes but love – never. He felt a burning in the back of his eyes.

"Darlin'" He tried to get the words out, but they caught in his throat. "You – I – love you. I think I have – for a long damned time." He felt her smile against his shoulder. He just held her, as she drifted off to sleep. How the hell had everything changed so quickly. He didn't care. He took life as it came, and if it chose to give him something good and decent for a change, he wasn't going to fight it.

Bombay was noisy – crowded and noisy – worse than London had been. Mrs. Anderson, whose husband was with the 19th also offered to take them to the lodgings set up for the military families. They agreed – Logan couldn't imagine trying to find lodgings in this city. They were given a room and were told a caravan was leaving for Punjab the next week. Mrs. Anderson was going to be traveling with them so Melanie wouldn't be the only woman on the trip. Logan smiled at the way this adventure kept falling into place.

They had been in Bombay two days when a dirty boy knocked at the door of the barracks they were living in. He was escorting an old man dressed in red robes. They were fortune tellers, Logan wanted to send them away, but Mrs. Anderson and some of the other wives thought it would be fun.

The old man entered the common room. The boy translated what he said. Each woman gave him her hand. The old man didn't pull any punches – he told the bad with the good, which surprised Logan a bit. Melanie put her hand in his – and he threw it to the ground, before grabbing Logan's hand.

"The woman and her children are doomed. Make her time in this world as happy as you can – for it will be short. You – sahib – are cursed – cursed to walk this world and never see Nirvana. Their deaths will be painful and frightening and alone and it will be one hundred and fifty monsoons before you will see her face again – before she has the courage to face life again." He could smell Melanie's fear.

"Get out – GET OUT!" Two soldiers removed the man and boy. Logan put his arms around his frightened wife. "He's just trying to get us to pay him to come up with something else. Mel, I won't ever leave you alone so how can you die alone." She smiled at him, and slipped her arms around his waist. He held her close, and made a silent vow to prove the old man wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

OK off on a different tangent for me…as usual, don't own them even though I love to play with them, so please pardon my humble attempts at trying to bring them more to life.

This will be another long – ongoing project, so for those who are enduring my other long and drawn out projects, updates will come as they can. Another dream induced idea – Gods Bless Morpheus.

This is TOTALLY AU, as far as I know these characters do not exist in Marvel universe, other than Logan and the rest of the Marvel crew. I am throwing canon to the wind (comic) anyway, and writing my own version of the past. Reviews are always welcome, but be aware this is completely OFF CANON, so flames about canon WILL be IGNORED.

Chapter 4

They found her uncle in Punjab and he was more than willing to agree to the marriage. He insisted they stay, at lest until the baby was born, and Logan agreed. William and his wife, Katherine were kind, and Melanie was relaxed.

Logan smiled as she walked in the garden. She had given up corsets months ago; her loose gown flowed in the hot breeze. She had been complaining of back pain for the last few days, and he had done everything he knew how to do to ease it.

He watched as she bent down to look at a flower, and then suddenly gripped her stomach.

He rushed to her side.

"Mel…"

"I think its time, Logan." She said softly.

He picked her up and carried her to their room. Mrs. Anderson was waiting; she had been spending the days here, while her husband attended to regimental duties. She pushed Logan out the door, and Bill took him by the arm, and led him to the study. He handed him a cigar and a huge glass of brandy.

"You are going to be here a while. Kitty took two days to give me my son." Logan took a huge gulp of the brandy. He could hear her screaming already. Bill tried to get his mind off of what was going on upstairs. They talked about Martha – about Charlie – about Logan's business interests – and Melanie's dowry. Logan winced every time he heard a scream from upstairs, every time he heard her curse his name. He almost laughed in his brandy when he heard her scream she wasn't ever letting him touch her again. Then he blanched – what if she meant it.

He jumped and ran for the door but William stopped him.

"All in good time, my boy, all in good time." He sat back down, and then stood and started pacing. His beard and graying hair always made Logan think of a billy goat. There was another loud scream from upstairs and the unmistakable sound of a baby's cry. Logan held his breath until he heard Melanie's voice, asking to see the baby. He sat bonelessly in the chair and gulped down the rest of his fifth glass of brandy.

"Five hours…that baby must have been in a hurry." William said with a grin.

Logan just stared at him. Mrs. Anderson came to the door empty handed, her apron spotted with blood.

"It's a girl." She said quietly, as if afraid of anger.

Logan grinned, and kissed her on the cheek. He ran up the stairs. A girl…His Melanie had given him a girl. She was lying on the bed, the tiny bundle against her chest. He could see a small fist outside the blanket and a shock of curly black hair – just like his. He sat on the edge of the bed, grinning like an idiot.

"Logan – she's so tiny." Melanie was grinning.

"She's beautiful – like her mother." He said, looking at her tiny face.

"What are we going to call her?"

"Margaret Jean." He said. Melanie smiled. Margaret had been her grandmother, and Jean had been her mother's middle name. Logan kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and then dropped one just as tender on little Margaret's head.

"My Melbell and Magpie." He grinned at them. Melanie laughed the sound music to his ears. He stroked her face, still marveling at just how beautiful they both were. He heard a sound at the door and looked up. William and his wife were standing there, Logan waved them into the room.

"Well, well – a girl. You will have to do better next time Melanie. A man wants a son to carry on his name." Her uncle said. Logan just grinned.

"I am perfectly happy with a girl…and a healthy mother."

The next six weeks flew by, and Melanie recovered quickly from the birth. Margaret grew quickly, and Logan's greatest joy was to hold her while watching Melanie take care of some small domestic thing, he had never felt such peace.

"I do think she smiled at me." He said as Melanie repaired a rip in one of his shirts.

"She will do that." Melanie smiled at him. He rocked the baby gently, having become an expert in baby care over the last several weeks. Or at least he thought he had. She started to cry, and he tried to quiet her. She had just eaten so he knew it wasn't hunger – her nappies were clean so it wasn't that – he couldn't for the life of him figure it out.

"Mel – help." He said.

She put the shirt down and walked over, picking up the baby. Cradling and cooing at her, trying to sooth her. She walked and paced, patting and rocking but still the baby cried. It went on for hours, and nothing would stop her. She refused to eat – refused to sleep – refused to do anything but scream in that high pitched wail that nearly sent him screaming from the room. He took her while Melanie tried to rest, but neither of them could think about rest or sleep with her crying like that.

Mrs. Anderson was sent for, and she laughed at them both. "Colic – all babies get it. A bit of brandy on the gums will set her right as rain." She was right, bless her, and Logan went back to holding his cherub, until the crying started again.

Four days they paced the floor, taking turns quieting her, holding her, sleeping when they could. William laughed at him, told him he was doing woman's work, but he didn't care. She was his daughter – he hated her being in pain, wanted to do what he could to ease it. As quickly as it started – it ended. She drifted off to sleep, and when she woke, she was grinning and cherubic again.

Logan was getting restless. He longed for the forests of Canada – his cabin, peace and solitude. He knew he would never have that again – but to be away from the press of humanity that was India – he wanted to go home. Finally, he tried to convince Melanie that they should return to Canada.

"What about Abbott?" She said, fear still gripping her.

"It's been a year – almost." He held her against his side. Magpie was sleeping all night, finally and he had Melanie all to himself. He couldn't complain about the changes in her body from the birth, and she was more willing to accommodate his needs, as if she needed the reassurance of his affections. "And we don't have to go back to Halifax, we can go in through New York, take a train up, and then cross country to my cabin. It's a nice piece of land – not as grand as your father's house was, but we can add on as we see fit." 

"I just don't like the idea of going back where he can find us; can't we stay here, just for a while?"

"Melbel – I have business I need to take care of, investments that need checking, money I am owed I need to collect – or at least remind people they owe. We can take the long route, let me check my European investments first, then we can work our way through the states, checking things there before we head home. I really would like to have a home – with you and Magpie." He whispered. Who said settling down was for old men?

"If you think its best – we will go, I just am afraid."

"I know – and I will take care of you both, I promise." He held her close. The next morning they packed their bags and said goodbye to her uncle and aunt. He was ready for a home of his own – and he needed to get out of Abbott's shadow. She didn't have to know that one of the things he was planning was taking care of that little problem.

The trip to Bombay was uneventful, and they were lucky enough that a ship was there, ready to return to England. Maybe London wasn't a bad idea, or a house in the country, he had enough contacts and interests in England that they could live comfortably there. No, Canada was his home, and he wasn't going to let some two bit asshole run him out. Besides – it was Melanie's home too, and he wasn't going to allow her to feel like an outcast for her entire life because of Abbott.

Three months at sea, and they returned to Portsmouth – a short trip to London – a visit to the bank to replenish his financial means – and another trip to Portsmouth. Passage to New York was nearly impossible to arrange. The war was still grinding on in the states. Daniel was in port, and with interesting news.

"Abbott and his men were run out of Halifax. They got a new governor, and have requested that anyone who had dealings with him – who was wronged by Abbott come forward to be compensated for their suffering. I was going to send news to India – Melanie's inheritance can at least partially be recovered." Logan grinned.

"So – five hundred for passage."

"Hell no, not with a baby crying at all hours of the night…six." The two men laughed and shook on the deal.

Melanie was shocked. "I can go home. I can go HOME!"

"Yes, my love, we can go home." He smiled as she threw her arms around him. He swung her around, her joy infectious. "I booked passage with Daniel."

They boarded the KatieMarie and it almost felt like being home already. Daniel was taking a few more passengers back across the Atlantic, but they managed to end up in the same cabin.

"At least this time I ain't sleepin in a hammock." He grinned as he slipped into the bunk with her.

"But I will still be sick." She laughed.

"Only in the mornings – I hope." They had just found out their second child was on the way. She had become a better sailor over the last year. They were both looking forward to returning home. Maggie was nestled between them, and they all three slept soundly.

Mel was right, she was sick. The whole trip, but this time there were no complaints. She wanted to go home as much as he did. The voyage was peaceful, long talks in the evenings with Dan, quiet time holding his daughter and his wife, even her morning sickness was a joy to him, although she cursed him not a few times over it.

In Halifax, the foundation was all that was left of her father's house. Abbott had left it that way as an object lesson to those who crossed him. Logan rented a house nearby and began the process to try to reclaim her father's property. There was no sign of Abbott – but he knew who to contact to help him track the bastard down – and old acquaintance who worked for his grandfather – a bounty hunter by the name of Victor Creed.

She was due any day when he got word to meet Creed – the message said Creed had information about Abbott. Logan hated leaving her even for an hour to meet the man, but he needed to take care of this – or the rest of their lives would be lived in the shadow of her fear of Abbott.

"Mel – I won't be gone long. I have some business I need to take care of. Mrs. Thompson is here, she will stay with you." They had hired a midwife to stay during the last month.

"Logan – you promised to never leave me alone."

"You aren't alone – Mrs. Thompson is here – and her husband. I won't be gone long." He kissed her gently, and picked up his toddling Magpie. "Kiss for Daddy." He set her back on the floor, gently, among her toys.

"Be careful and hurry back. My back hurts." She moaned as she sat in the chair in the drawing room.

"I'll rub it out tonight, when I get home." He grinned. Something made him look back, at his girls. They were so beautiful. He grinned.

The tavern was crowded; Creed took up a bench on the back wall, a serving girl on his lap when Logan walked in the door. He never really liked the man, but he was good at what he did. He was loyal to Logan's grandfather, and so Logan trusted him.

"What information do you have for me Creed?" He said as he sat down across the table from the giant.

"Abbott is coming back to Halifax – don't know when. He got word you were back – you and your girl."

"You sure."

"Yeah – I'm sure."

"Find out when for me, I want to kill the bastard myself." Logan said, bitterness in his voice.

"You ain't soft like your grandfather says." Creed said with a vicious grin.

"No I ain't. This bastard has done enough to me and mine. I am goin ta gut him myself."

"Need any help – not for free or nothin, but the bastard deserves killin."

"I'm payin if you are in."

"I'm in. Need a place to stay, though – out of sight."

"Got a back room you can use. Mel won't mind." The giant stood up and the two men left the common room. They walked back toward Logan's house but the smell of smoke caused both men to burst into a run. The house was engulfed in flames. Logan tried to run through, but he could smell the blood and death before he even tried. He could see into the drawing room – Maggie's small body crumpled on the floor, already blackened, Melanie laying – her blood soaking the floor around her, the baby lying next to her, ripped from her belly a knife through it's head. He couldn't even tell if it was a boy or a girl. He kicked in the drawing room window and dragged their bodies out into the yard. The baby was a boy. He grabbed Maggie's burned body, not even feeling the flames and heat as they burned him. Creed just watched.

He knelt over Melanie a scream caught in his throat. He had been gone less than an hour – less than an HOUR and they were taken from him. He remembered the words of the old man…_The woman and her children are doomed. Make her time in this world as happy as you can – for it will be short. You – sahib – are cursed – cursed to walk this world and never see Nirvana. Their deaths will be painful and frightening and alone and it will be one hundred and fifty monsoons before you will see her face again – before she has the courage to face life again._

Creed helped him – why he never knew. He managed to get through the funerals – get them into the ground, the miniature portrait he was going to surprise her with, sealed into her headstone, above the words Melanie Marie Howlett, Beloved Wife and Mother, Born February 7, 1845, Died September 18, 1865. Then he went after Abbott. After the man was dead – and anyone associated with him, Logan tried to forget. Kept trying to forget until one day – he did.


	5. Chapter 5

OK off on a different tangent for me…as usual, don't own them even though I love to play with them, so please pardon my humble attempts at trying to bring them more to life.

This will be another long – ongoing project, so for those who are enduring my other long and drawn out projects, updates will come as they can. Another dream induced idea – Gods Bless Morpheus.

This is TOTALLY AU, as far as I know these characters do not exist in Marvel universe, other than Logan and the rest of the Marvel crew. I am throwing canon to the wind (comic) anyway, and writing my own version of the past. Reviews are always welcome, but be aware this is completely OFF CANON, so flames about canon WILL be IGNORED.

I realize that the movie says "Sometime in the near future" but for my purposes sometime in the near future will start September 18, 2015.

Chapter 5

He pulled up in the truck. The bike was strapped into the trailer. It was too damned cold to ride it. The early snow this year had the roads slick and treacherous. His financial reserves were getting low again – time to restock the wallet. Laughlin was known for its cage. He climbed out of the truck, his jacket the only thing between him and the bitter cold. He pulled out his wallet and checked to see how much cash he had on him. Enough for the entry fee – and drinks, he'd have to eat something later.

Charlie, the bartender took his fee, fifty bucks to enter the cage, and his tab for his drinks while inside. He stripped, and popped his neck. He hated the pain, but had to admit to the satisfaction of beating the shit out of these backwoods jerks. They never knew what hit them when he entered the cage, and he didn't care.

The first five or six fights were just warm up. He was drinking a whiskey while the announcer tried to drum up some more warm bodies – when it hit him. A scent he knew. He didn't know from where but he KNEW that scent – cinnamon – and spice – and something unique. He glanced around but couldn't spot where it was coming from. A big guy entered the cage, and he turned back to the business at hand.

After the fights were over, he dressed and went to the bar. On the TV over the bar – they were talking about the mutant issue. Mutant – he had figured out, over the last few years that he was one of them. He noticed the girl at the end of the bar, her green coat barely covering her mahogany hair. He felt his heart lurch in a strange way – he didn't understand it, so he turned back to the screen. Across the bottom, the date read September 18, 2015. For some reason the date was important, he was trying to decide why when the ox from the cage decided to cause problems. He tried to ignore it until he heard her voice scream.

After Charlie pulled the gun – he seriously considered cutting them to shreds. But her face stopped him. He couldn't do it, not in front of her. He didn't know who this kid was, but she was pissing him off. He stormed out of the bar and out toward the truck. He stopped along the side of the bar, out of sight, and drained his bladder against the wall. He climbed into the cab, and looked at his hands. He hated those damned things. He didn't know where they came from, or why he had them, but they weren't natural. His healing – that was natural, his senses – those were natural, but those things – those metal blades in his hands, they felt like they were too heavy – too unbalanced – like they didn't belong.

He started the truck, and drove off. He had driven about five miles when he noticed the trailer was off balance. He pulled over and walked back. He poked the cover and when it moved he yanked it back.

"What the hell are you doin'?" He asked. She was curled up under a tarp, half frozen in the cold.

"I'm sorry." It seemed to echo in his head – like he should remember her voice saying those words. "I needed a ride and I thought you might help me."

"Get out." He snarled. His head was hurting – she smelled like he should know her but he didn't know from where.

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know." He snapped at her.

"You don't know or you don't care?"

"Pick one." He said as he turned to walk back to the cab.

"I saved your life." Her voice drifted to him.

"No you didn't." He slammed the door and threw the truck into gear.

He drove maybe a hundred feet – when he stopped the truck. He didn't even know why he did it. Why the hell should he care about some slip of a girl – she wasn't even old enough to fuck. The last thing he needed was a statutory rape charge. She climbed into the cab, he didn't even look at her, just waited for her to close the door and put on her seatbelt before putting the truck back into gear and driving on.

"You don't have anything to eat – do you?" She asked. He reached across and opened the glove box. He had been planning on the jerky for dinner – but he had earned enough in Laughlin that he could buy dinner tonight, after he dropped her off. She ripped into the package and with a blush bit into a large chunk of jerky.

"I'm Rogue." She said. She looked around. "Were you in the Army – doesn't that mean you were in the Army?" She pointed to his dog tags. He didn't know where he got them; he tucked them quickly under his shirt. She was looking around the truck again and back into the camper. "Whoa – suddenly my life doesn't look that bad."

"Hey if you prefer the road…" He said ready to hit the brakes and dump her ass back in a snow bank.

"No – No it looks great – looks cozy." She said, chewing on another bite of jerky. She rubbed her hands together. He looked over, a sudden flash of what those fingers would feel like against his skin. He reached over and turned on the heater.

"Put your hands on the heater." She jumped back as he reached for her. "I'm not goin ta hurt ya, kid." The words seemed to echo in his mind.

"It's not personal – it's just that when people touch my skin…"

"What?"

"They get hurt."

"Fair enough." He looked at the road ahead. Her voice – her face – her scent they were all familiar – as if he should know her, as if he should know her importance, but he didn't.

"When they come out, does it hurt?"

"Every time." She was the first person to ask him that – to show any concern for him at all, in all the fifteen years that he could remember, she was the first.

"So what kind of a name is Rogue?"

"I don't know, what kind of a name is Wolverine?" She said, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"My name's Logan." She just looked at him

"Marie." He nearly drove off the road. It hit him. Even her name was familiar. He was stunned. He COULDN'T remember – but he needed to.

"You really should wear your seatbelt…" He glanced over at her

"I don't need to take auto advice from a …." He hit the tree head on – he saw it as he flew through the windshield and into the snow. FUCK! He lay there a moment, letting his mind recover from the pain before he tried to move. His ankle was out of place and he was going to have to pop it back before it stayed that way. He stood and walked back toward the truck. She was staring at him through the shattered windshield.

"Are you alright – Kid – are you alright?"

She just stared at him, and then started struggling against the seatbelt. "I'm stuck." He started toward her side of the truck when he smelled it. Familiar – again but his brain just wouldn't give him a clue as to why. He hated this. The creature came at him out of the snow, and sent him flying. He stood up and shook it off, attacking the giant. His tags came out of his shirt again, and the giant grabbed them, a grin on his face. The final blow landed him on the hood of the truck and for the first time in a long time he blacked out.

When he woke, he was in a strange place, some strange woman poking needles into him. It took him a bit to accept they were helping him – and the kid. She was his – to protect. He didn't know why, but she was. He felt responsible – like she needed him. When she ran off – he followed, convinced her to give the Geeks a second chance. It nearly killed him when the bucket head took her. He had to go after her. They convinced him to work with the team – to let the Professor use his machine – fat lot of good that did, but they were able to find her – get to her.

He looked down at her in his arms – a sudden flash of her face, covered in blood – eyes open in terror. He pulled off his glove, forcing the image from his mind – he would look at it later, right now he had to save her. He put his hand to her face – but there was nothing. He looked at her – a sharp pain ripping through him, he couldn't lose her again – where that came from he didn't know – and then he felt it, her skin – pulling him in. He didn't try to stop her – he prayed she would take him all – end this nightmare – and again he blacked out.

He woke up – again, Jean standing over him, her hands hitting that spot on his stomach that made him twitch.

"That tickles."

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you feeling?" Used up and old.

"Fantastic."

"That was a brave thing you did." He wanted to call her a liar.

"Did it work?"

She nodded – "Yeah she's fine - she took on some of your more charming personality traits." He let out a painful chuckle. "But we lived through it. I think she's a little taken with you."

"Tell her my heart belongs to someone else." Jean was safe – he could love her from a distance – no one could stop him. Rogue – Marie no one could ever know how he felt about her – how he wanted her. She was a kid – it was wrong – vile – disgusting. Jean was safe.

"You know you and me…."

"How's the Professor?"

That was how he wanted to leave it – but she stopped him – at the door.

"You runnin again."

"Not really – have some things to take care of up north." He could see the doubt in her eyes. He reached out to touch the white streak in her hair.

"I kinda like it." He grinned, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and carry her up stairs, and he started to turn away. "I don't want you to go."

"I'll be back for this." He slipped the tags into her hand and walked away – safely away from her alluring eyes and hair and oh so deadly skin. She would never know – how close he came to staying – to forgetting – to allowing himself to find a home. But he needed to know – why? Why she was important – why he couldn't remember? He climbed on Scott's bike, grinning – at least he had a decent set of wheels to start out with.

She greeted him when he came back, her body more developed – more confident. She introduced the ice cube boy as her boyfriend and he hid the pain in his gut. She had found someone – someone her own age, someone willing to try to find a way around her skin. He wished her the best. When she chose the cure – chose to get rid of it completely he didn't blame her – but it sure made things harder on him. He focused on Jean, on stealing her from Scott – he was the Wolverine and never backed down from a challenge. Her death was a setback – and he really did miss her. Her rebirth was a bigger surprise – and he didn't lie to her – before he drove the claws into her heart – he loved her – just not the way he loved Marie.

She had been dead two months – Marie cured for two months when the note came. Nothing special just addressed to Logan.

**Come to Halifax if you want answers. I can give you some. Meet me at St. John's Church Cemetery, the Howlett graves.**

Something about the name – and the handwriting made him think it was for real. He said goodbye to Ororo – and packed a bag. They didn't want him to go, thought it was a trap. Marie begged to come with him. He almost took her – almost. She was twenty one. He didn't. She and Bobby were trying to work things out since the cure, and he didn't want to be in the way.

He arrived in Halifax and looked for the church. It was an old church – with a graveyard attached. He found the sexton.

"I'm lookin for the Howlett graves." He said.

"You are the second one this week – big guy been hangin out there. Back of the yard, large stone – she was a pretty lady." He gave the man a puzzled look. How did he know she had been a pretty lady?

He walked through the cemetery, looking at the graves as he passed. He found the stones, two children, one eighteen months, one died at birth but the large stone – the mother – it drew his attention.

**Melanie Marie Howlett, Beloved Wife and Mother, Born February 7, 1845, Died September 18, 1865.**

"Remember her yet, Runt?" Came the voice behind him. He recognized the scent and popped his claws. "Ain't here ta fight – put them away." He turned. Sabretooth – dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a leather jacket, hair pulled back – neatly.

"What do you want?"

"The kid – she bugged me, I knew her from somewhere – I just couldn't place her. And then I remembered this – and you – and her. I felt you needed to know."

"Know what?"

"Look at the stone – you will have to rub away the grime – but take a really good look."

He knelt down; there was a small oval cut into the stone, some kind of sealant over it. He rubbed, and slowly a face started to appear. Marie – in and old fashioned hairstyle and dress. Marie? Suddenly he gripped his head – not Marie – Melanie.

"This is impossible."

"I was there with you when she died. You loved her – and you killed for her and the kids. I think – in as long as I have known you, it was the only damned time I was scared of you."

He popped a claw and dug the miniature out of the stone. He held it in his hands, tears blurring it more than time had.

"Next time – I won't be nice – but this was too weird. You told me what the old man said – in India – after we killed Abbott._ The woman and her children are doomed. Make her time in this world as happy as you can – for it will be short. You – sahib – are cursed – cursed to walk this world and never see Nirvana. Their deaths will be painful and frightening and alone and it will be one hundred and fifty monsoons before you will see her face again – before she has the courage to face life again."_ Logan looked up at him; he could hear the voice in his head repeating it as Creed said it. 

He sat – hard on the cold ground - September 18th, 2015 – the day he met Marie. He looked up at Creed. "I need to go home." He said it softly. The big man just stepped out of the way. He put the miniature in his pocket. The whole way back to the mansion he tried to remember. As he pulled in the gate – he decided it didn't matter. She was there – and he loved her.

She met him at the door, tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong – kid?" He asked.

"Bobby's a jerk." She said, and started pouring the whole story out to him – finding Bobby and Kitty kissing – Kitty trying to tell her it wasn't her – Bobby trying to tell her it wasn't him. Halfway through the tale he gave up and pulled her against him, and kissed her hard.

"He don't deserve ya." She looked up at him in shock.

"Logan?"

"I shoulda said this a long time ago – I love ya, Marie." She just stared at him – and then threw her arms around his neck a huge grin on her face.

"Well your timin SUCKS!" She said, laughing.

"Yep – I'm a couple years late – but you were right on time." He'd explain to her later, once he got everything settled in his mind, right now – he picked her up and carried her to his room – She was his Marie, and God help anyone who tried to take her from him again.

Later that night, she was tossing in a nightmare. He was afraid he had caused it. He had been surprised – he had figured she and Ice Cube had done SOMETHING while he was able to touch her skin. Her cry and the scent of blood had drained every bit of need from him. Her mouth kissing him, and begging him not to stop had spurred him on, making sure she was screaming his name before he drained himself deep inside her. Now she was tossing – turning – her voice whimpering.

"Maggie – no – not my baby – no PLEASE!" It was a cry that cut him to the core.

"Marie – wake up – baby – wake up." He shook her shoulder.

"NO – GOD NO! ABBOTT NO! Not the baby NO!" Suddenly she sat straight up in the bed.

"Marie!"

"Logan – oh my God – who the hell did THAT come from!"

"What?"

"With all the people in my head – I get weird memories sometimes – dreams. But that was different." 

"Tell me."

"I don't want to – I think it might hurt you."

"Baby – please – I think I need to know." She looked at him strangely.

"I was sittin in a room – a little girl was playin at my feet, her name was Maggie. Suddenly the door burst in and four men came in. I think one of them was named Abbott, anyway they grabbed the baby from the floor and threw her back down. I think her neck snapped – but they bashed her head in with a poker anyway." He winced – a flash of a tiny blackened body in his arms. "They grabbed me – and one of them pulled a knife. They cut open my stomach and pulled out a baby – they let him cry – let me see him before they rammed the knife into his skull." Logan nearly gagged – a flash of a tiny body in his hands, the knife obscenely sticking from its skull. "As I lay there bleeding, they threw up my skirt and started ta…"

"Enough!" He was seeing her body – cut and bloody, clothing torn and her body violated as he carried her from a burning building. A scream that had been locked in his throat for one hundred and fifty plus years ripped through the room. Marie jumped in shock.

"Logan – are you alright?"

He looked at her – alive and breathing beside him in the bed, her streaked hair the only difference between the two women – and her skin, skin he could now touch. The door burst open, Storm and Colossus and Kitty and Bobby standing in front of a crowd of students. They quickly sent the children back to bed – Logan's nightmares were a known thing at the school.

"I would like an explanation." Storm said sternly.

"Me too." Bobby said, staring at his girlfriend sitting naked in Logan's bed.

"Can we get dressed first?" Storm nodded. He looked at Bobby. "You snooze – you lose bub." Bobby raised his hand to freeze Logan but Storm stopped him.

"We will discuss this – downstairs."

"Logan – Ro can make me leave over this."

"Darlin' if you go – I go, ain't you figured that out yet. Love ya – now it's time ta face the music." He picked up his coat to grab a cigar and found the miniature. He pulled it out of the pocket. "This might help." He laughed – but refused to show it to her.

Downstairs – Storm and the others were waiting in her office.

"This is highly irregular – at best – Logan. At worst you are taking advantage of a student and a team member."

"I love her, Ro – it took me damned long enough to admit it – longer to act on it. And you can't argue with destiny." He put the portrait on the desk – Ororo gasped at the likeness. "That was my wife – one hundred and fifty plus years ago." Marie looked at it, then at him, doubt filling her eyes.

"Darlin' I loved ya before I knew about that. I've loved ya since Laughlin. I told ya – I'm the one who is late."

"What do you mean – Logan – and what was that dream tonight?"

"_The woman and her children are doomed. Make her time in this world as happy as you can – for it will be short. You – sahib – are cursed – cursed to walk this world and never see Nirvana. Their deaths will be painful and frightening and alone and it will be one hundred and fifty monsoons before you will see her face again – before she has the courage to face life again."_ He said the words slowly; afraid that he would remember something else – something that would hurt his girl.

"That's bullshit."

"No – Marie we met September 18th, 2015 – she died September 18th, 1865."

"My Goddess!" Storm whispered. Even Bobby was stunned.

"I guess this would be as good a time as any. Marie d'Ancanto – will you marry me."

"No ya big jerk – why the hell would I make the same mistake twice." She laughed at the look of shock on his face "Of course I will – Logan I love you."


End file.
